Collection
by Dickie
Summary: A collection of short stories based around our King of Fighters favourites......
1. Hotel Room

Disclaimer: I make no claim in owning the SNK/Playmore/Eolith characters used within this story.

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He sat there propped up against the hotel room wall, his leather jacket abandoned on the floor next to him. The tanned skin on his leanly muscled form was slick with sweat, strands of his unkempt silver hair sticking to his forehead. His muscles burned with exhaustion, short shallow breaths pounding in and out of his chest. The last battle had been rough, the Fatal Fury Team put up more of a challenge than ever, the hardest one to overcome being the older Bogard.

But he won through a technicality, of which he tried to dispute but the judges ruling was final to his extreme annoyance. Any more protest would have lead to immediate disqualification, eliminating any chance of reaching NESTS. Bogard however, seemed to be alot more accepting of this, and left the arena, mentioning something along the lines of, "...It's your fight K'... go get 'em..."

"Go get _what_?," he muttered, reminiscing over the earlier bout, "I don't even know where the fuck NESTS are..."

He closed his eyes and resumed contemplating his thoughts, golden hued light filtering in through the blinds and into the room, bathing the room in a warm glow. Time passed by slowly, the colour of light reaching an ever increased richer tone. Tired of remaining on the stiff floor, he got up dragged himself over to the bed, kicking off his boots before collapsing on it. It wasn't often he was able to indulge in such luxuries, so he made use of it. Besides, this was all coming out of NESTS own pocket. He lay in silence for a few moments before he heard the his room door swing open, then click shut and the bare footed footfall come across the plush hotel carpet. K' remained still, his eyes shut before he mumbled something.

"Get out Maxima... I'm too tired to do shit-all.."

But the presence remained in his room, from which he grew annoyed.

"Do I have to spell it out? Piss off."

He instead felt a sudden weight straddling his hips, which then leant forward and pressed a pair of soft lips against his own. Any initial protests vanished when an intruding tongue probing around in his mouth. Once the kiss had broke, he could feel the the smirk that formed from the unknown party.

"Aren't you glad I'm not Maxima," she said, her face still in close proximity to his own.

He opened his own stone grey eyes found a pair of crystalline blue ones gazing back intently through a thin veil of platinum hair. She got up and leant back, allowing K' to take in the form currently straddling his hips.

"Hiya Dash," she spoke softly in her light accent.

"Angel," he couldn't help snarling as he responded, "What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't help myself... you looked real beat after the last match... thought I could cheer you up a bit..."

He glanced away, disgusted at his own weakness. NESTS had trained him to be their very best, pushing him to his absolute limits then demanding even more. He was vicious, ruthless and absolutely devoid of emotion, with a tendency to lose himself in the heat of battle. He didn't quite seemed as infuriated as he would have thought. He respected Bogard as a worthy fighter.

"Don't worry about it, what's done is done... there's nothing you can do but learn from the past... but right now let's focus on the present."

Slowly, she shifted her weight off of his form, and padded over to the doorway which lead to the room's bathroom. One of the few things he prided himself over was his self control, but he couldn't help have his eyes drawn towards her gentle swaying of her curvy end. He took this moment to actually take notice of her clothing, or her lack of it. She was still wearing her favoured black leather jacket, it's unusual stylings creating maximum cleavage with her ample bosom, but at the moment, it was zipped open, exposing her simple blue bra underneath. She was still wearing her plain blue panties but she had opted to abandon her bizzare pants, so she was more or less parading around in K's room dressed in nothing but her underwear and her leather jacket. Other than a certain female Shiranui ninja, she was the only other person that he knew of that would have the gall to go about wearing that. Stopping at the doorway, she turned around, and beckoned K' to her, a cheeky smirk on her face.

"C'mon Dash," she said before disappearing into the bathroom.

He sat up from the bed, taking the time to run his hands through his ruffled metallic hair. Pulling off his socks and pulling off his black fingerless glove, he stood up, still clad in his leather pants. He wasn't sure of what lay ahead, but he couldn't trust himself without the crimson glove that NESTS had created for him, should a repeat of the KOF 99 incident occur. He waited no longer as he heard the running water and a soft moan emanate from the shower.

"Damn," he cursed, before heading into the bathroom as well.

The room had already began to fog up with the steam generated from the hot water. The transparent glass door of the shower had already misted over, but there was no mistaking the image that hid behind it. K' glanced at the items left on the floor. One leather jacket. One bra. One pair of panties.

_'Yeah, that was all of it.'_

His thoughts were broken as the shower door slid open and Angel poked her head out.

"You going to join me or just stay there smelling of sweat?"

"Seems a little obvious, even for an air head like you," said K', sarcasm evident in his voice, "There's a gorgeous pair of tits and ass in my shower. I ain't going nowhere but into that shower."

She grinned at his response. "Good.

---

A/N:I'll do requests but which ones I choose are at my discretion. Don't go asking for yaoi anytime soon though/


	2. Soda

Disclaimer: I make no claim in owning the SNK/Playmore/Eolith characters used within this story.

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The Fatal Fury Team was a force to be reckoned with, doing exceedingly well in every tournament, but never quite making it to the finals to claim a victory for themselves. Their current match up being against the Hero Team, led by a K'. The rest was a rumoured cyborg by the name of Maxima, the ex-Ikari Whip and Lin, the ninja that was on the Benimaru Team in 2000. Joe Higashi lead off for them, and with all his arrogance and goofy behaviour, managed to force a draw with the almighty Maxima. Not too bad, considering Maxima was more machine than man.

Andy Bogard himself was no push over, but he went down hard and fast against the third and final fighter. He had won the second round through the narrowest of margins, the draining effects of poison taking their toll upon his rapidly weakening body. But the other ninja was gracious enough in his defeat to tell him that the effects were only temporary. Lin was not a ninja to be forgotten, and he knew that they would cross paths once again in the near future, to test their ability once more. There were more pressing matters at hand now, that being the leather clad opponent that stood- no, slouched before him.

The round had barely even started, and his opponent had already disappeared. He didn't even have time to steal a quick glance around the arena before he heard a familiar voice scream out at him.

"ANDY, **BEHIND YOU!!!**"

He never got the chance to even see where the attack was coming from. His opponent had somehow slipped smoothly and quickly to his flank, and in an instant, his crimson gloved had was ablaze with flames and came sailing his way with brutal force. He practically went flying, his body contorted with pain as it reached new heights before he crunched down painfully against the ground, outside the arena. He was out cold.

Terry Bogard watched with a blank expression on his face as his brother was carted off, obviously to gain medical attention. NESTS may be the main sponsors to the tournament, but they were not about to lose out on any precious fighting data from injured fighters. How else could they measure their own experiments effectively?

_'This is going to be one hell of a fight,'_ He thought as he began his journey into the arena. When he stepped up into the arena, his opponent has his back turned to him, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Noticing the strength of his opponent, he brought his hands out from his pockets and swung round. Terry himself didn't waste much time and went into his own form, blocking the mass distraction that was the cheering crowd as best he could.

**_**READY...**_**

**_**BEGIN!!!**_**

With a sudden burst, he leapt up into the air, rocketing downwards with his fist extended in a blast of ki. And his opponent met his earthbound attack with a searing arc of flames. His silver maned opponent recovered quicker than he had anticipated, and he was greeted with a heavy booted strike, crashing against the side of his jaw, knocking him back in a spiralling descent. He curled into a ball at impact, minimising the damage before getting back up on his feet and dashing back into the fray.

His opponent lashed out hastily with a right hook, which he rolled straight under and emerged with a sharp low kick followed with a quick jab. A swift left uppercut shot out before he leapt upwards, legs first and his arms extended for balance, spinning rapidly all the way. His spinning form hit repeatedly, before knocking his opponent away, where his opponent managed to land roughly while he dropped down nimbly onto his feet.

His opponent dashed in once more, rushing forward with another advancing kick with flowed seamlessly into a lower one, which skid across the arena floor. He was prepared for the initial attack and avoided serious damage to himself as he stepped back hurriedly, his shins scraping painfully as the sliding boot from the second kick went past. Wasting no more time, he swung in from the right, his fist connecting twice in two separate places. A short advance with an overhead punch from the left followed smoothly before he drew his right arm back once more, a focused concentration of his ki pulling from within and gathering at the end of his arm, before he hammered downwards, the taut material of his glove stretched across his knuckles split, as a monolithic column of focused ki exploded into a brief and devastating existence.

He stood up, watching his airborne opponent flail through the air, before tumbling violently against the ground and dangerously close to the arena out-of-bounds. At the last instant, his crimson gloved hand shot out and dug furrows into the arena floor. As he regained his standings, his livid gaze burned straight through him, the visible anger in his eyes raging with a fury that he had witnessed before in the eyes of the Orochi Yagami. The anger in his eyes seemed to manifest into waves of heat that emanated off his disheveled body. His crimson glove, the one that seemed to control his ability with the flame was battered, a few of the metal panels having dislodged themselves during the course of the fight. He stole a moment to adjust his hat before taunting his opponent with a, "C'mon, C'mon," before steeling himself for another full blown assault, he didn't quite expect a pair of pricey sunglasses to be thrown his way.

"What the he-"

He never got the opportunity to finish his sentence, as his opponent rushed him at full force, the sunglasses providing a moments distraction. The blows came hard and fast, but were no worse than any of the Art of Fighting Team's Ryuko Ranbuu assaults he had endured in previous tournaments. But as the attacks progressed, the temperature increased, with each strike blazing with a burst of crimson flame. The inferno of attacks finally ended with a scorching uppercut sending his form airborne before his silver haired opponent flashed foward and blasted him one last time with a lunging strike. That final impact sent him hurtling through the air at high speed, the crimson flames extinguishing themselves as he collided against the ground, where he bounced once before rolling into a ball.

He stood up, and did his best to shake off the effects from the attack, his clothes scorched in several places and smoking in others. He brushed his vest down a bit, before choosing to discard his hat for the remainder of the fight.

"Nice diversion. Care to try again?" he beckoned his opponent.

His opponent with silver hair smirked, before stealing himself a moment to adjust the number of belts that were strapped around the sleeve, and determining whether or not his armoured glove would survive the fight. At the present moment, a few of the red steeled plates were missing and one of the rounded knuckles had already dislodged itself.

"Oh you're good eh?"

"Definitely. C'mon!!"

---

The bout had ended hours ago, the judges ruling in the Hero Team's favour. Needless to say he was disappointed in the outcome, but he knew that it was not his fight. He knew there was a vendetta to be carried out and who was he to stand in the way?

He was currently sitting in a local burger parlour, not far from the tournament arena. He was slumped into his seat, a pack of greasy fries sitting idly on his tray of food, and a greasy burger held in his hands. He finished his burger with a final bite, before washing the rest of it down with the orange soda that accompanied his meal, before he adjusted his position on the cheap plastic seat. He dipped his hat forward gently, before resuming eating the rest of his fries.

A few minutes passed, before he heard the all too familiar rumbling of an approaching motorcycle. His eyes never left his food, as the door chime jingled, nor did his eyes trail the attractive blonde who had just entered, like the rest of people in the parlour. The usual mouth watering aroma of his food was quickly overriden with a sweet alluring scent, which was heading progressively closer towards him. He was annoyed when his fries was taken away from him but his eyes never rose to met the level of his new companion.

"Can I have my food back?"

"And a _hello_ to you too."

The corner of his lips tugged upwards at the sarcastic response, before he slowly brought his head up to meet the person who now sat across from him eye to eye. She had already plucked a few chips out already and began eating them.

"Aren't you still on your case?"

"Yeah, I would be but we've been eliminated from the tournament. Can't exactly do anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's fine Terry."

"If you say so."

A comfortable silence fell between them as his companion finished off his fries and picked up his soda. She sipped at it, before it too was gone.

"Thanks for eating my food."

"No problem. I'm here to help whenever you need me."

"Really?"

"Really."

He stood up, and smoothly met her side, topping her height by a few inches. He flipped his hat around backwards, as he looked down at her before in brief instant, his lips met hers. The moment was fleeting however, as the contact was broken much too soon for her liking.

"Mmmm," he mused, "Soda definitely tastes better on you."

He got up and left her sitting there, before taking his leave through the door. He couldn't help but grin as he heard the door chime ring once more after him. As she ran up next to him, he grinned back down at her.

"You know," she started, "I've got more soda back at my place..."

"You don't say? I wonder what else tastes good on you..."

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A/N: Brief, and probably confusing. At least it vaguely ties in with the last chapter.


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